


Almost Perfect (BATIM AU oneshots)

by RoryHarmony



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: (just enjoy the angst for now), (someday I'll get to all of these parts probably), (there'll be friendships and comfort too I swear), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rivalry, Shorts, Supernatural Elements, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25959061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryHarmony/pseuds/RoryHarmony
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a broken reality. And at the very center of it, a desperate, broken soul.
Relationships: Alice Angel & Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Alice Angel & Boris (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Bendy & Boris (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Bendy & Sammy Lawrence, Susie Campbell/Sammy Lawrence, Thomas Connor/Allison Pendle
Kudos: 9





	Almost Perfect (BATIM AU oneshots)

Word count: 1,311

Estimated reading time: 04:51

**__________________________________________________________________**

Brown.

Black.

Brown.

Stained yellow worn by time.

More black. The dull smell of ink, soulless mass of fluid spilling, seeping, pumping through cracked pipes.

Brown. Old wood, rotten creaking under every step.

White.

White.

**_White._ **

A rare shade in this godforsaken world of sepia. Clear, unpolluted. It symbolizes Heaven; it symbolizes good things. Kindness… innocence… hope.

Despite everything, Alice never gave up on hope, one could give her that. Even after most of the people she trusted and knew all her life had either disappeared, or changed so fatally, so irreversibly, that she could no longer find comfort in their presence. Even after her home, the place of her birth, wonderland of cartoons and magic, laughter and entertainment, a miraculous empire had fallen, crumbled, reduced to nothing but broken shards of dreams and the reality she had no choice but to come to terms with. Even after the world around her permanently twisted in on itself.

Gloved fingers tightened around the axe’s handle as something stirred in a puddle behind. Her posture stiffened in anticipation, but no further noise came. Only the quiet flow of ink.

The tap of her shoes echoed through the halls while she took a turn to the left. Their varnished gloss had worn, her clothes had tattered and dirtied, but her flawless pale skins had stayed the same as when she would dance and sway on the silver screen back in the day, sounding her oh-so-beautiful voice with pride and a smile brighter than the pearly gates. A genuine one no less. She loved pleasing her audience, making them happy, to help ease their sorrows and enlighten their lives. Guide humanity to the right path; that was her duty as an angel, albeit fallen from God’s grace.

_Some angel she’d become._

Horrible gurgling foreshadowed the arrival of another poor, corrupted creature; a barely recognizable version of what looked like a cartoon character was limping towards her at speed.

– Charley… – A heavy sigh. She would usually flee from them, but the corridor was too narrow; she had no choice but to come face to face with this one. She furrowed her brows and prepared her axe, though it served more of a barrier between the two than a weapon.

Only gibberish came for an answer. Its jaw hung open, the monster raised its pipe wrench and struck without hesitation; she took a step back and dodged, returning to her former stance. _Oh how she hated this._

– Please, Charley… Don’t make me hurt you! It’s me, Alice, don’t you recognize me?

Another strike. This time she barely had any time to readjust herself. A noticeable tremble crept into her movements and words.

– You know, that… that “goody-two-shoes” angel… that’s me, Charley please, I know you remember! I know you’re better than this!

Her pleas to her opponent were getting desperate. She stared into its singular pitch black eye (the other stitched up in a dead “X” shape), looking for any sign of compassion, empathy, pain, or any life at all… But alas, she found nothing. Not even her own reflection.

– Please don’t make me hurt you…

Maybe it was its lack of ears, or inability to comprehend Alice’s words, either way, Piper hit again, this time sending her to the ground. She grabbed both ends of the handle and stopped the wrench. For a while the two tools stayed pressed against each other firmly as either of them refused to back down.

She gritted her teeth with effort. If this kept on someone would have to get injured in order for the other to escape. She couldn’t bring herself to deliver a blow. She’d seen unstable toons die before; they’re so easy to destroy, leaving behind merely the lingering memory of their cries, a few droplets, the guilty satisfaction of survival…

Everything went black.

Cold, now lifeless ink splattered on her face as the malformed clone suddenly exploded. Glistening lines of ink swam across the ground, and Alice instantly knew who she’d been saved by; although she didn’t like the implications, not one bit.

A lanky shadow loomed over her as slow, wet footsteps inched closer.

– Hey, Alice.

She looked up at him hesitantly. Into his eyes she would have, however she found but one, barely uncovered. The creature was dripping with ink from head to toe, only a small patch of white from his face being visible, and that wide, cartoony grin. She remembered it, the only resemblance he bore to the cheeky little devil whom she used to be on rather complicated terms with. Despite their differences, she considered him to be a friend, back when she lived in a world painted monochrome and things were so much simpler.

Now she wasn’t sure anymore what to call the monstrosity in front of her.

– Long time no see, dollface! – Her old nickname rolling off his tongue sounded so nonchalant, so sickeningly familiar it made her stomach churn. – Whatcha been up to lately? Took a vacation? Ah well, I s’pose this place can get pretty boring… I should know, I’ve been ‘round for decades! All this ink and wood and dead bodies and… ink…

She wordlessly stared at the monologuing demon.

– But anyway! – He raised his voice so suddenly she flinched, as if he’d just noticed her. – What’s up with ya? I’ve been _dyin’_ to catch up! – He gestured to the puddle of ink on the floor and laughed at his own joke. – Get it? ‘Cause he’s… dead… oh, c’mon, doll, don’ make this awkward.

She just kept staring. His tail started swishing anxiously and she was worried she’d upset him for a moment…

– I saved your ass just now, geez! The least you can do is give me an answer.

She finally got up with a sigh, dusting herself off in the process.

– Thank you for saving me – she admitted honestly and picked up her axe. Better safe than sorry. – But don’t expect me to approve of you killing these poor, innocent creatures.

– Pff… “Innocent”?! – He looked at her like she was the insane one. – Dat thing tried to _kill_ you just now! Y’think you coulda won him over with your pleading? I’ve tried talking to them but, they ain’t the best listeners…

– It’s normal to you, isn’t it? – she snapped. – Murdering helpless souls, terrorizing innocent people… Everyone here is afraid of you, and they have every right to be. They say you trapped them in the studio, you’re the reason they have to live like this… you’ve brought so much suffering and pain. Do you even care?

His smile faltered only the slightest bit as he let out a bitter chuckle. Of course he cared, he cared way more than he should have, but he’d been way past that phase where he could actually make a choice. So he opened his eyes and by the time he did, the all-concealing grin was back on his face, fake as ever.

– Look, I don’t care what they think of me. They deserved everything I did to them. And I certainly don’t regret killing — heck, I woulda gutted Joey like a fuckin’ fish if I caught him. It’s a survival of the fittest world, doll, and _I’m_ on top of the food chain. Not our so-called “creators”, not Joey, _**me**_. Go ahead, call me a monster. See if it matters.

He stayed for another moment, persistently enduring Alice’s sharp gaze. Her attempts to find humanity in a pair of eyes had proven futile once again.

Then he walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She rotated the axe in her hands as she pondered. The blade was supposed to be made of steel, yet she couldn’t make out her own reflection no matter how hard she tried. While walking back to the safehouse, she wondered why nobody in this studio could see themself the way they really are.


End file.
